


The Key

by ixieko



Series: The Ancient story [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixieko/pseuds/ixieko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ifalna visits Cosmo Canyon in search for information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Key

To the Cetra race, Midsummer was one of the most important times of the year, along with Awakening - the night of spring equinox, when all nature in regions with temperate climate was waking up from winter slumber, and Harvest - the night of autumn equinox and Cetran New Year. Following nature's way, living by sun and moon, Cetra celebrated their holidays when there was the appropriate season in their land.  
Threading her way through a crowd at Cosmo Canyon's Midsummer festival, unusually big this year, Ifalna remembered her grandmother telling about these traditions; she, as a child, always perceived them as odd. How could you have different years in different places? When Cetra of the North hemisphere celebrated the Sping Awakening, Cetra of the South hemisphere celebrated New Year (in autumn - what a nonsense!); when in the North there was Midsummer, in the South there was Yuletide. It sounded so weird for the young girl, who tried so hard to be _normal_.

"You are one of the last keepers of the land," Her grandmother used to say, "You should learn our ways and traditions and pass them on to your descendants. Be proud of your heritage, child."  
Being a respectful granddaughter, she listened obediently to old tales, but when the old woman, tired from talking, slumbered in her armchair, the girl slipped away from the gloomy, stuffy room to sunny days, and games, and laughter; to her human friends. She never asked to be special, never wanted to be. The voices in her head - "The voices of Spirits," her grandma explained, - were always there, whispering, confusing and demanding, and she tried to make them as distant and quiet as she could.  
Her family was one of the last few to give up nomadic life. Her grandmother's room resembled more a yurt: walls and floor covered with thick, ornamented rugs; a low bed with furs instead of blankets; the only circular window high on the east wall - a compromise between the old woman's desire to place it in the middle of ceiling and her son's insistence of building the house "human way".  
Ifalna's father was openly disapproving of his mother. "We live among humans now," He used to say, "And we should live like they do. Our race does not exist anymore, mother, accept it."  
The old Cetra would frown at him, her faded yellow eyes, surrounded by deep wrinkles and hooded with heavy eyelids, shining with unexpected power. "The land still needs our care," She would say sternly. "We are who we are, son, wherever we choose to live."  
"Cetra do not exist anymore." He would repeat. "The land should learn to do without us."

Ifalna emerged from the crowd, walking towards the inn. She took a two-day leave to come here in search for some kind of a direction, a hint on how Cetra used to learn to use their abilities. Up to this day, she was never able to get as much as a clear phrase from Spirits' voices, and all her attempts at stopping human experimentations failed. Almost a whole year passed in vain. Now, Hollander's Project G was already commenced, two children were expected to be born by the end of the year, and it would not be long until Hojo's proposal would be approved too.

To her pleasant surprise, there still was a bed available in the inn. Ifalna paid for it and then sat in the bar to rest and drink some coffee.

According to Gast Faremis, as well as her own grandmother, ordinary humans were Cetra who long ago abandoned their ways of life and gave up their spiritual practices. Was there even a way to reclaim the lost abilities, Ifalna wondered, sipping her drink and staring, unseeing, at the table.

The last time she saw her grandmother alive was on the New Year Eve (the middle of winter; normal, human holiday), her first year in the newly founded ShinRa University. Ifalna was chatting with her mother, telling her about the kinds of lab experiments they were conducting, while the old woman frowned at her in angry disbelief.  
"You were killing animals for your own _amusement_ ," She said, trying and failing to stand up from her seat, "You should be ashamed of yourself, Ifalna. This is not the way of our race!"  
The girl was unexpectedly hurt by these words. "It was not for amusement! It was for research!" She retorted, "And I don't remember Cetra feeding on grass alone! As far as I know, _your kind_ used to breed animals and eat meat."  
"Only if there was a strong reason for that, and we always prayed to the Planet and animals for forgiveness of our _crimes_." Her grandma answered. "There is a huge difference between killing to survive and killing for entertainment or out of curiosity. All life is precious, and all creatures equally deserve to live. If you do not understand this, child, then you are truly not a Cetra anymore." With that, she turned away and did not utter a word to Ifalna until the girl departed back to the University.  
A month later, the old woman died in her sleep. The only thing she left her granddaughter was a small, unusually white Materia, along with a note.  
"Dark times are coming," Her words were, "Pray to Gaia when the need arises, and if the Planet forgives you and listens to your prayers, this will summon Holy."  
The little white orb did nothing, whatever Ifalna tried with it. There was nothing on Holy in any sources either. However, for some unclear reason, she never told anyone about the Materia and never parted with it.

Outside, the crowd was as thick as before, dozens of people chatting, laughing, arguing, drinking, singing and moving around like restless ants. The sun was setting into heavy grey clouds, its last rays colouring everything with crimson and purple, the ravine below already pitch black except for several bonfires, surrounded by more people. Ifalna went up the stairs. Elder Hargo was the one who she wanted to visit first.

At the top of the stairs, when she tried to enter the passage, someone grabbed her by the sleeve of her blouse.  
"You are the one," A voice whispered, faint and dry, like leaves shuffled by the wind, "The last one who wields the White. I was waiting for you."  
"Who are you?" Ifalna asked, trying to discern the face, hidden in shadows of the passage and, simultaneously, to free her sleeve from the grasp.  
"The keeper of the Keystone." He stepped out of the darkness, revealing old, wrinkled face. His hair, eyebrows and long beard were white, his eyes the same faded yellow shade as her grandmother's were. His long grey hooded cloak was well-worn and covered in dust. "The Ancestors heard your prayers, child. You may enter the Temple and find your answers." With that, he took her hand and placed something on her palm.  
A round stone, some kind of Materia, she understood, lifting her hand and examining the item. When she looked at the stranger again, he was not there.  
"What _is_ the Temple?" She asked the shadows, but no one answered.

Elder Hargo was so excited by the stone, he was short of jumping high in the air.  
"The legendary Key Materia, a key to the Temple of Ancients!" He exclaimed, tracing its surface lovingly, reverently with his fingers. "We were looking for it for many years! Ah, Professor Faremis would be so happy!"  
"Does Professor Gast know where the Temple is?" Ifalna asked.  
"Of course he does! Take the Key Materia to him. I'm sure he will arrange the expedition right away."

When she went back to the stairs, the last rays of sunlight already vanished behind the mountains far to the West. The festival continued, and she made her way through the crowd and all the way down to the ravine's bottom. There was no point in staying overnight; she already had what she needed. Summoning her chocobo, she wondered, just how quickly the expedition could be arranged.

The journey to Nibelheim took all the night; Ifalna rode through the sleeping town in surreal pre-dawn silence, disturbed only by her big bird's light steps. Mountain peaks were hidden in grey mist, swirling with wind, but down there the air was calm.  
Shinra Mansion met her with the familiar yellow lights, and the Professor sitting on the sofa in the lobby, reading some papers.  
"Gast!" She said, surprised. "Why you're up so late, er, early?"  
He sighed, putting the folder aside. "I approved Project S," He answered gravely. "There was no point in delaying it longer."  
"But," She stuttered, coming to a halt, "What about the test subject? Did he find any volunteers already?"  
"Doctor Crescent." He said curtly.  
"What? Lucrecia? Why?"  
"Apparently, she is pregnant." Gast rubbed his forehead. "They married yesterday. Crescent and Hojo," He clarified.  
"Married." Ifalna repeated weakly. She did not understand. A few weeks ago Lucy was madly in love with the Turk, Vincent Valentine, then they seemed to have a quarrel, though she didn't know the reason, and now... this? What was happening?  
"How was your trip?" Professor asked, "How is the festival this year?"  
She hesitated. Would it be right to show him the item now? Well, if Project S was approved, she had no time to lose anymore.  
"I have found something of interest," She said, taking the Keystone out of her bag. "Here. Elder Hargo told me it is the Materia needed to open the Temple of Ancients."  
Gast was up instantly. He took the Stone cautiously with both hands, as if something fragile, and examined it, his eyes shining.  
"Yes," He said at last, "It definetely is the Key Materia." He looked at his assistant, smiling widely, face lit up with excitement. "Now we can enter the Temple and unravel all the mysteries left by the Ancients! Ifalna, I lo..." He stopped himself, coughed and corrected: "I'm grateful for your contribution to my research!"  
Ifalna chuckled, hiding her smile with her hand. "Can I accompany you, Professor?" She asked.  
"Of course! We will depart tomorrow!"  
"To... tomorrow?" She asked, bemused. "So soon?"  
"Well, we don't have much to do here from now on. I'm sure Hojo and Crescent are skilled enough to complete their project by themselves." He turned to the stairs, still admiring the Materia in his hands. "Rest today and pack your things up. I'll make all the arrangements."  
With that, he went up the stairs and to the left, to his room. Ifalna stayed in the lobby with her mouth hanging open. She didn't expect it would happen _that_ fast!

...

In the evening, after sleeping for almost half a day, Ifalna was packing her belongings up, when the door to her room flew open and banged on the wall. She turned around, nearly tripping over her own feet.

At the doorway Lucrecia was standing, looking around the room with disbelief. "Iffie?" She asked. "Are you really leaving tomorrow with Professor Faremis?"  
Ifalna pushed stray locks of her hair away from her face. "Yes. He is going to explore the Temple of Ancients, and I'll assist him." She looked to the floor for a few moments, trying to find the right words for what she needed to say. "I think you're making the greatest mistake in your life by agreeing to the experiment." She said at last.  
"A _mistake_?" Lucrecia huffed, irritated. "Iffie, it's my chance to participate in something important! To make a difference! To give a new hope to all humankind! How could this be a mistake?"  
Ifalna knew that the chances of talking her friend out of it were almost nonexistent, but still, she had to try. "The _thing_ we are experimenting with is not a Cetra, Lucy." She said.  
"How can you say that?" The other woman demanded, her tone accusing. "Did you yourself not agree that all evidence pointed it was a non-human anthropoid organism that lived on our planet around two thousand years ago. It should be a Cetra, what _else_ could it be? Are you abandoning the project because of mere... unfounded doubts?"  
Ifalna sighed. "True, I don't yet know what it is, nor do I have any proofs. But I'm sure it's not what we thought it was. I can't tell you everything, because I have first to understand it myself." She went closer, looked her friend in the eye. "Lucy, please. Delay the experiment. Wait until we return. It won't take too long."  
" _How long_ will it take?" She asked, her expression stubborn. "The infusion must be done by the end of first trimester. We have six weeks until then. Will it be enough for you?"  
"I don't think so," Ifalna answered quietly, the sense of defeat so strong she swayed on her feet. "But, Lucy, do you have to do it with your first child? You can always wait until another pregnancy. Please," She begged, "Wait for our return."  
Lucrecia did not answer. She turned away, silent for several moments, and then muttered angrily: "When you return, we will prove that you were mistaken. My child will be a true Cetra. We will not _fail_." With that, she began to walk away.  
Ifalna tried to stop her, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder.  
"Lucy..."  
But she was already moving away, and her hand slipped off.  
When Lucrecia already disappeared in the corridor, Ifalna whispered, closing her eyes, "...I'm so sorry."

...

Standing alone in her room, she prayed for the first time in her adult life, prayed to the Planet, to Ancestors, to old deities of Sun, Wind and Water, to anyone who would hear out, prayed, pressing the White Materia, clutched tightly in her palm, to her breast, "Please, let me make it in time. Please, don't let me be too late. Please, keep her and the child safe."

The longest day of the year 1979 was coming to an end, and the silence filled with incomprehensible whispers of Spirits was her only answer.


End file.
